Happy New Year! This year, while revelling on Hogmanay, little did I realise a Christmas mystery was unfolding in the garage…
The first clue was when I went to take the bike out on New Year’s Day, I grabbed my WW2 haversack containing my tools and waterproofs and found that despite having used it to ride to a trial a couple of days previously, the strap was in two pieces. But looking closer it wasn’t frayed, it looked almost as though it had been cut by a knife…
It usually lives indoors but on this occasion I’d left it in the garage on another bike seat – but I found it on the floor, so I just assumed it had caught something sharp as it fell. Seemed a bit odd… but odd things do happen – especially around old bikes.
The next thing was when Judy went into the shed alongside to get something from the freezer and returned saying the light had packed up. I went out armed with a new bulb but was a bit dismayed to find that the wire to the switch had also been cut. Obviously neither of these knife attacks were human doing – like all of us, I am pretty careful about security and besides what would be the purpose? So not being particularly superstitious, I decided the cable must somehow have got caught in the door hinge, although I couldn’t realistically see how that could happen.
The next bit was more of a shock, over in the corner of the shed, the floor was covered in woodshavings – this picture was taken AFTER I had swept up but once I looked more closely at the damage it all began to make a bit more sense.
The shavings came from the wooden upright which had been whittled from 2″ x 2″ down to just about 1″ x 1″! Clearly something had been locked inside and been very anxious to get out. It wasn’t there now so it had plainly succeeded but the gap wasn’t near big enough for anything like a cat, fox or badger…was it maybe a rat?
The damage to the wood was so aggressively professional it looked more like the work of a beaver than a rat and besides, there were metal objects on the floor that had been knocked off a cabinet top I think a rat would struggle to reach. Something had jumped up there and run along the top, probably headed for the daylight gap at the top of the closed door, biting the light switch cable in frustration when it found it was just a draught-producing crack.
Further study revealed the culprit. Tufts of fine grey fur indicated an uninvited visit from Sciurus Carolinensis, the grey squirrel.
These destructive little tree rats abound round here. We have an immigration officer of course, Peter the English Toy Terrier – who should keep rodents, cats and other undesirable non-residents off the premises. Indeed, thinking back, I remember him expressing great interest in that corner of the shed before I noticed anything amiss.
But the pint-sized Doberman lookalike is as hopeless at routing the little pests as my dear-departed Finbar who used to howl in despair at the base of the tree, while the squirrels frolicked about and pulled faces above. I remember one occasion when a squirrel was lying prone on the top rail of the fence, limbs dangling either side, enjoying the sunshine while Finbar was going demented below. Peter is rather more philosophical, he chases the squirrel up the tree and makes a sharp exit back indoors, thus preventing himself being humiliated by the squeaking taunts from above. Just as well really, I didn’t want either dog catching one – I don’t really mean the squirrels any harm and if you corner one of the little blighters I’d guess it could turn pretty nasty. Peter may be a ratter by genetics but he isn’t really the killer type…
Come to that, he can’t even fight his way out of his blanket…
Anyway, that was the mystery solved. Where the wood had been attacked, there had already been a gap about the size of a squirrel’s upper body but probably too small for it’s ample behind, so he had obviously enlarged the exit using his claws and teeth to get out. I guess at this time of year they are looking for somewhere warm to roost. Weird thing is, as I’d locked up the previous night, I remember completely out of the blue thinking of those ‘missing cat, please check your shed’ notices; something I never worry about because I’m in there every day. Must have been a bit of that lifesaving prescience we motorcyclists often develop that makes you certain a car is going to pull out even before the driver has made up his mind.
Anyway that wasn’t the end of the story. Next day I was moving some bikes around and I found this unpleasant surprise…
Dammit! The sodding thing had obviously managed to reduce it’s girth for escape by having the biggest dump in history and he chose to hang his furry arse over the side of my Gold Star when he did it!
“What has a hazelnut in every bite?” said the 1970 ‘Topic’ chocolate bar advert – if you’re my age you’ll recall the answer…
The final indignity was when I called Judy out to see and after checking her Scott, parked alongside, hadn’t suffered a similar fate, she couldn’t resist pointing out that her Flying Squirrel could crap all over my Gold Star any day! Humphhh, very funny!
What a start to 2020; I hope yours was better!
Cheers Rick
Isn’t squirrel poo lucky?
Probably trying to get the screwdriver from the bag to unscrew the hinges from the inside..
Ha! Well it was lucky for the squirrel; I’d have bloody strangled it… I keep wondering which of the little gits bouncing around digging holes in my lawn was the culprit!
R
Years ago I caught sight of one of those damn tree-rats rooting around on my BSA, parked outside my place of work.
When I got out at the end of the day, I realised the pesky rodent had been tucking into my punnet of peaches, strapped onto the bike rack along with the rest of my lunchtime shopping.
Hmmm, looked to me like this one might have enjoyed enough fruit to give it grumbleguts too…
Hi, recall the observations of Mr Mortimer Batten a Bantam rider, fisher, author of book on UK wild Animals? You could cover the damaged post in tin sheet, preserving a knawing for posterity.
Ha! Very funny I’m sure! Well, if I see the gnawing little git I will be booting its posterity!
Funnily enough I have sometimes had to clear up similar splats on the lawn which in the past I blamed on local cats. I was moved just now to investigate squirrel droppings on the internet (yes really) and as I suspected they are bigger than mouse, smaller than rat but not the porridgey mess I had to clean up. I think they get fed titbits round here to the detriment of their gut health; I have also found the odd Rich Tea biscuit on the lawn…
But very definite a squirrel was to blame, further evidence yesterday when I spotted a big tuft of grey fur caught in the seam of my Sunbeam saddle.
Cheers R
Hello Rick,
This has (of course) nothing to do with your recent posts. I just need to get it out of my system.
I love engines, provided they are designed prior to the 1950’s.
I still own a 1971 Commando, although I haven’t ridden it much lately.
Unfortunately I also also need a car, since my work requires me to be able to visit customers at regular intervals.
Now, a good number of owners of a modern cars have experienced the dreaded ‘Engine Light Warning’, which can be almost anything from total disaster to a fuel cap not fitted correctly.
In my case, the authorised dealer claimed a fuel starvation problem…..which again could be caused from anything between a real leak in the air-intake system to a broken lambda gauge.
Turned out that nothing was wrong…the gizmo measuring the fuel-mixture was broke, thus conveying false signals to the on-board computer, which again triggered signals to enrich the fuel mixture…which caused the Engine Light to turn on.
How did it ever get to this?